


The Gift of Years

by meandmysarcasm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandmysarcasm/pseuds/meandmysarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin wants to make the anniversary of his first year married to Belle Gold extra special, so he decides to surprise her. Not sure how it fits with chronology [it was written before the start of season 5] but for all intents and purposes I imagined a future where this would happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Shop

He couldn't hide the curve of his lips when he glanced at the clock above the counter and realized it was almost time. With a quick peek at the leaves tumbling down the street beyond the shop door, he flicked the sign over and stepped away. Then he turned his attention to his shirt sleeves.

One of his cuff links was missing.

Sucking in a breath, Gold ducked beneath the counter, careful not to pepper his trousers with the dust collecting on the floor. His fingers skimmed along the floorboards, and although he couldn't see into the darkness, his knuckle brushed against cold metal.

He sighed, relieved. With trembling hands he straightened the left sleeve of his navy shirt and fastened the cuff. In the half-light of the room it glinted silver, like a star against the night sky. Perhaps he shouldn't wear them tonight, after all. His shop was crammed full of beautiful things, trinkets and baubles and all manner of curiosities. But if he'd learned anything at all in his years of collecting, he knew you should always treasure the things you held most dear. His dealings as the Dark One had only made that message clearer. People were so willing to relinquish their sentimental ornaments for magic. And what for? For lands or titles or riches. Eventually all these things lost their meaning.

Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. What harm could come to them?

Still, the missing cuff link seemed like a bad omen. He thought it over again, then remembered Belle's expression last time he wore them, and made a solemn promise to himself that he was done second-guessing his decision to keep them on.

Last but not least, he padded back behind the till and opened the safe, tucking the brown paper package into the inner pocket of his coat. By now, the sun was beginning to set and the sky beyond the shop window showed a dusky pink, shot through with strands of gold , like the inside of a shell. Gold stared at it, remembering the way the sunsets in the Enchanted Forest sometimes looked, the way the smell of hay and bonfire smoke would creep into the air at the end of the day when the year drew to a close. Bae's face would light up at the sight of it. If Gold closed his eyes he could still picture the soft shadows cast on his son's cheeks, the infectious grin and childish wonder.

His vision blurred for a moment. Not a single day went by without him thinking of Baelfire and all the years spent trying to find him. Because he'd given in to the darkness and let it consume him, instead of taking his son's hand when he needed him most. And for that, he would never forgive himself, because every day he remembered that his son had grown into a man without his father. Gold had wasted all those years.

The clock behind him chimed the hour, jolting him out of his reverie. He pressed a hand over his heart, where the paper wrapped package nestled in the lining of his coat, before he strode over to the door.

His past might have been filled with mistakes, but he would make sure his future with Belle was a fresh start. He refused to waste any more time on the darkness dwelling within him.

Besides, he thought, locking the shop door behind him, she deserved so much more than that.


	2. Magic Without a Price

He had always considered his wife to be beautiful, but when he caught a glimpse of her waiting for him next to the well, underneath a canopy of leaves, his heart gave a lurch of pride so strong he almost staggered. Against all the odds, they were here now, ready to celebrate a whole year of marriage.

Belle. His mouth framed her name, but all that emerged from his mouth was a hoarse whisper.

She held her emerald green coat close to her, shivering in the breeze as she stared at a line of trees in the opposite direction, to where their shop met the edge of the woods. Hair trailing over her collar in gentle chestnut curls. Even with her back to him, Rumple could imagine the glint of her eyes as she waited to see him emerging from the copse of trees.

His smile turned mischievous. So, she thought she knew his plans, did she?

I told you I was going to surprise you, dearie. Did you really think I'd be quite so predictable?

"Belle," he called again, and this time his voice travelled across the clearing.

She turned around, and he was pleased to see a brief flicker of astonishment crossing her face as he approached from the opposite direction. So she hadn't discovered his plan then. Good. Even with magic, it took a lot of trickery, and an awful lot of deals, to keep her from finding out what he'd been doing today.

"Rumple," she said, with a smile so dazzling that he blushed.

He watched her every step as she strode over to him, graceful even in her high navy shoes, and brushed her lips chastely against his own. She smelled like perfume, crushed flowers with an undercurrent of vanilla, delicate and perfect. Rumple sighed and slid his arm through the crook of her elbow.

"Shall we?"

She pursed her lips, but couldn't stop them from curling up at the edges. Her eyes crinkled up.

"Where are we going?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he replied, wagging a finger at her. "All in good time, dearie."

Still, the hammering of his pulse in his veins grew louder as he escorted his wife out of the woods and into the familiar streets of Storybrooke. Even in the darkness, the town seemed to glow with an almost palpable aura of magic, humming in his ears like a distant far-off song.

"Granny's?" Belle guessed as they walked down the main street. The bite of the wind turned her cheeks a delicate pink.

"Keep guessing, Mrs. Gold."

The thrill of the name on his lips kept him smiling as he led her further down the street. As they passed the diner, he caught a glimpse of his grandson through the window, drinking cocoa with Regina and Robin, a bow and quiver casually slung over the back of his chair. Henry's eyes widened when he saw his grandfather, and he gave Rumple a fleeting wave as they walked by.

"He really admires you, you know," Belle said, startling him. "Henry."

"If you say so," Rumple replied, glancing back at the diner.

Belle pulled to a stop.

"It's true," she said, in that tone of voice she sometimes used, the one which told him arguing would be pointless. "Whenever he comes into the library he asks about you."

"Yes but…" his voice trailed off. She stared at him, head tilted at an angle like a bird. Her eyes were the colour of the ocean on a cloudless day and they watched him intently as he gave a feeble shrug and tried to nudge her into walking again.

"He might ask about me," he admitted, when it became clear she wouldn't move until he'd given in. "But he doesn't come and see me."

Belle's smile held a tinge of sadness. She reached over and patted his cheek. Her fingers were ice cold against his skin, and when she lowered her hand, he caught it between his own to keep it from freezing.

"Then maybe you need to go and see him. I know it's been difficult, getting people to see past the darkness, Rumple, but there is a man behind it."

"You've told me that before," he muttered, but even he could hear the wistfulness in his voice.

She nodded. "Yes, I have. Because it's true. I mean, just look what you've done since you came here. You found your son, you saved the whole town from Pan. You even pulled Excalibur from the stone. You're a hero, Rumple. I can see that, and so can Henry. We just have to work on everyone else, that's all."

"Every time," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "Every time I try and pull away from the people in this town, you make me keep on trying. Whenever I feel like I'm being dragged in by the darkness, you drive it away."

"Well…" she said. He could feel the warmth of her body next to his, even as she gave a tug on his hand to make them start walking again. "It took me a little time to get to know you. But I'm glad I took that risk."

He opened his mouth to reply, but her gaze suddenly fell upon the building before them and she turned back to him, eyebrows raised.

"The library?" She said.

Rumple smiled at her, his worries about everyone else melting away. Did she know the effect she had on him sometimes? Did she know that every moment he spent with her made him feel less like a coward, and more like the man he hoped to be? With Belle by his side, Rumple felt weightless, fearless, like he could do anything he set his mind to.

"But I was only in here this morning," she said. "You couldn't have possibly… there's no way…"

With a wolfish grin and a flourish, he pulled a spare key from his coat pocket and unlocked the library door.

"Sometimes, magic comes in handy."


	3. Alone

When Rumpelstiltskin pushed open the library door, the smell of roses wafted towards Belle; sweet and cloying with the faintest trace of rich, dark earth layered underneath.

Through the windows, she could see the street beyond, a world as familiar now as her castle in Avonlea had once been. Here in this room, Belle knew every creaking floorboard, the location of the wall socket where she could charge her phone while still keeping an eye on the door. She could reel off almost every single book to pass through the library, because she'd spent so many hours binding up old covers and dusting them, all the while marvelling over the wonderful adventures they contained.

Not tonight though. Tonight, she could barely make out the titles in the shimmering light cast by ropes of fairy lights. They burned like stars in the dark room, twinkling in the gloom. Coils of them twined around every shelf.

"Wow," she said, her heels clicking on the floor as she took a hesitant step inside. "This is… This is so beautiful."

Rumple's eyes glittered. "I thought I should make an effort, since this is our anniversary."

"You did all this with magic?"

He nodded as he pulled out a seat for her. It was the same table Belle usually kept copies of the Storybrooke Mirror on, since some of the regulars liked to keep track of local goings-on. Although Belle lived to read, she wrinkled her nose at the thought of the paper. Most of the crazy, dramatic events that unfolded in town happened too quickly for the paper to catch up with, and besides she almost always ended up getting involved. Why read the news when you were too busy helping out the heroes?

She almost couldn't recognize the table now though. A creamy white tablecloth was draped over it, spilling artfully onto the floor. A vase of roses stood pride of place in the centre, next to a sputtering candle. Two plates sat on either side of the table.  
Rumple chuckled as he sat down opposite her.

"Well, not exactly. I used magic to decorate but keeping you distracted took all of my ample cunning."

Belle's eyes widened.

"So that's why Granny came into the shop today?" She said.

"You don't really think she would come to my pawnshop to find a present for Ruby's birthday, now, do you?" He said, eyebrows raised.

Belle's lips twitched. "Well, it did seem a bit out of the ordinary," she admitted.

Rumple glanced up at her as she talked, smiling. The candle between them flickered, spilling shadows across his face and illuminating his eyes. They looked like pools of melting chocolate, wide and impossibly bright. She could get lost in them, she knew. Just keep falling into their depths.

"It wasn't easy to get her to help me out," he said as he lifted a picnic basket out from under the table. As he spoke, he uncorked a bottle of wine and set it upon the table to breathe. "But I generously made her a deal."

"Hmm. What did you offer her?"

"A few days grace before rent day," he said, passing her a knife and fork.

"Well, it worked."

He nodded and made one of his habitual gestures with his hands. "Yes, but let's not talk about everyone else tonight. We hardly ever get time alone together. Let's…let's just make it about us."

Belle reached forwards and took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. Her wedding ring glittered on her finger, a promise made a whole year ago. She could hardly believe it. It seemed like only yesterday they'd been standing by the well, saying their vows. A year ago when she'd promised to love him forever. And even though they'd been through hell and back, the words themselves seemed like the easiest things in the world to say, because in some way she felt as though they'd always been true. He was her happy ending.

"Deal," she agreed.

He flashed her a wicked grin that made her heart flutter in her chest.

"Wine, dearie?" He asked, his voice low.

Belle nodded and watched as he stood up to pour a glass of merlot for her. She sniffed it experimentally, as she'd seen him do and swirled it in her glass before taking a sip. It tasted sharp on her tongue, an explosion of flavours. Though she was in no way an expert, Belle thought she could pick out the tang of plums and cherries in the aftertaste. She set the glass down on the table, careful not to spill any on the crisp white cloth. Rumple sank back into his seat.

In the glow of the fairy lights, his profile was illuminated. Belle could make out the soft curl of his hair framing his face, the curve of his cheekbones, the tiny patch of skin he'd missed when shaving that morning. Her husband. Even the thought sent a shiver down her spine, though the library was warm as toast. Would she ever get used to that word? She never thought such a thing would be possible. Not after everything they'd been through. All the times she'd lost him, and found him again. And yet, she told herself sternly, true love always found a way. She should be able to trust in it now, after all these years, to keep bringing her Rumple back to her, the way the moon brought the tide in.

"It's strange, to be alone with you," she said, her voice coming out in a strange stammer that made him glance up, alarmed. "Without… urm, interruptions."

"You mean Emma and the merry band of Charmings?" Rumple said.

She chose to ignore the slight bitter edge to his voice as she picked up her fork and began to pick at her salad. He brought out a steaming hot container of pasta that trailed steam as he loosened the lid.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, after a few moments of prolonged silence. "It's just, well, I didn't imagine this when I married you."

Belle felt her breath fetch in her throat and she tried to keep her hands from trembling. What was he saying? That he regretted it? No, she wouldn't let herself start down that path of doubt. He'd made such an effort tonight, decorating the library. And all for her. Of course he loved her. Anyone with eyes could see that.

"Imagine what?"

"This," he gestured at the library, his expression full of resentment. "A honeymoon in Storybrooke. An anniversary in the town library. You deserve more than this, Belle. You wanted to see the world. You wanted an adventure. And instead you're stuck here, in this cursed little town."

In spite of his words, relief surged through her veins. Silly girl, she scolded herself. You should know better than to doubt him by now.

Her eyes softened.

"But I'm here with you," she told him, a single tear clinging to her lashes. "And that's what really matters."

"I would have taken you to New York, or Paris. Venice even," he said, his voice little more than a passionate whisper.

Her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass. Yes, she wanted all of that. She would love to travel the world, to see everything it had to offer. Storybrooke kept the possibility at bay. It seemed like every time a curse broke, a new one took its place, teasing her with the opportunity before ripping it away again. Cruel, but then that was life. And as much as she wanted to complain sometimes, she couldn't help but admit that she had more than some people could ever wish for.

"One day," she said. "One day we'll get to go to all those amazing places. And we'll do it together. But right now, we're here in Storybrooke and we're celebrating our anniversary. I'm happy here, Rumple. Because I'm with you."

He didn't reply, just closed his eyes and nodded, but she could see the tension draining away from his shoulders all the same. All of a sudden, he rose to his feet. Belle looked up at him, puzzled, as he took her glass out of her hand and set it down on the table.

"We'll get back to dinner in a moment," he promised, his voice a soft hum. "But now, would you do me the honour of a dance, Mrs. Gold?"

Belle felt her throat tighten as he held out a hand to her. Joy made her giddy, and although she couldn't make her mouth move, she gripped his hand and nodded, letting him pull her to her feet.

A dance sounded absolutely perfect.


	4. Mid-Dinner Dance

Just as he had done a year ago, Rumpelstiltskin clicked his fingers and Belle found herself in clothes completely different to the ones she'd worn to dinner. The top of the dress was made of some strange silken fabric, spattered with sparkling gold, wrapped tightly around her body to her waist. There it fanned out into a flimsy diaphanous navy material which floated around her thighs and down to her ankles. Crystal beads decorated her neckline, throwing rainbows onto the library walls.

Rumple sucked in a breath when he surveyed his magical work.

"You look as though you're wearing constellations," he whispered and Belle felt a surge of euphoria at his words.

She gave him her most winning smile, though her excitement was gnawing away at her chest.

Rumple's heart contracted at the sight of her, stood before him, with her slender hand in his. Seeing her like this, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

His wife. His Belle.

Move, he told himself. Don't just stand there.

He forced himself into action, clicking his fingers once more so that he wore a suit befitting her dress. The dark blue waistcoat swirled with gold tapestry, and he held himself straight as the record player made its whir-click noise as it came to life. He paused for a moment to brush a stray tendril of her hair back behind her ear.

Belle lifted her chin. The music drifting from the record player sounded familiar. Haunting, melodious piano notes like a caress. She sighed as the violins on the record began to play. Rumple let go of her hand for a moment to straighten the lapel of his jacket. He stared at her self-consciously and not for the first time, she wondered how blind he could be to his own attractions, to the things that made her heart stutter every time she caught sight of him. Rumple had spent his whole life putting himself down.

As always, the thought left her with a profound sadness. Belle pushed it away as best as she could. Now was not the time to feel melancholy. They were here, together, and… alone, for once. She should enjoy this small slice of happiness while it lasted.

Forcing it out of her head, she draped her arm over his shoulder. The silk material of her dress was paper-thin, and she could feel the warmth of his hand as he placed it on her waist, pulling her close enough to see her own reflection in his eyes. His lips parted as he took a step forward, in time with the music, and they began to dance. His fingers skimmed along her back, drawing patterns that made her want to giggle. They tickled.

"My beautiful wife," he murmured as they turned.

The skirt of her dress flared up. Belle could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath came out in fluttery bursts as they reached the nearest bookshelf and spun around again. If the music still continued to play she could no longer hear it. Her whole world had narrowed to them; to their footsteps, to the hand clasped in hers. The perfection of the moment.

She didn't know how long they'd been dancing for; it could have been five minutes or five hours. When they finally finished, Rumple pulled her close enough that she could have counted his eyelashes. Their foreheads pressed against each other for a moment before she closed the space and kissed him. It began chastely enough, just a light brush of her lips against his, like the flutter of moth wings. But then he deepened the kiss, and her arms went up, her fingers lacing together behind his neck. His own slid into her hair, pulling her so close that she could scarcely tell if a single millimetre of space existed between them. There was a delectable urgency in the kiss, and Belle suspected that if the whole town were to come bursting through the library doors at that moment, Rumple would have burned them all to ashes for ruining the moment. And she might even agree with him for doing that.

His hands were knotted into the fabric of her dress now, and they were taking staggering steps back until they fetched up against a bookshelf. Belle knew she was making desperate noises, but she couldn't help herself. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, her legs in line with his, and just before she started to wonder if they were going to risk making love in the library, despite the fact that the blinds were open and anyone walking past might see them, Rumple began to slow the kiss down. His lips glanced off hers; feathering light kisses down her cheek and down along her collarbone. She leaned in with a sigh and nuzzled the side of his neck, breathing in the faint trace of the aftershave he used. Belle let her cheek rest against his skin and closed her eyes. She wanted to stay in this happy little bubble for as long as possible.

"Belle," he said, and she loved the way he said it, the way he stressed the 'B', drawing it out. Ever since she'd learned French as a little girl, she'd always cringed internally whenever anyone said her name. Beauty. Exactly what men expected to see when they gazed at her. Just as Gaston had when he first met her. Wanting to know if she lived up to her name. As if her looks were the only part of her that truly mattered.

But the way Rumpelstiltskin muttered it, she would never grow tired of it. He'd never just valued her for her looks, but for everything else that added up to her personality. And sure, he told her she was beautiful, but somehow she believed him when he did, because she knew he thought her beautiful both inside and out.

"You know," he continued, his eyes still fixed on her lips. "I'm half-tempted to drive us home right now."

Belle let out a whispery chuckle.

"Hmm," she said, giving him a coy smile. "But then all of your hard work would go to waste."

He closed his eyes, and she suspected he might have been counting to ten in his head. The thought made her bite her lip to keep from giggling. Flooded with happiness, she leaned over and kissed Rumple on the tip of his nose.

Mouth a little dry, she said, "I've heard that patience is a virtue. And you're not the only one who's been planning our anniversary."

Rumple's eyes widened just a fraction and Belle felt her stomach flip. She ran a hand over the skirt of her dress, smoothing it out where they'd crinkled it earlier.

"Sit down," she commanded, pulling out his chair for him as he'd done for her earlier.

He slid into it, looking like wanted to argue.

"You're a menace, Mrs. Gold."

She broke into a smile so wide that her mouth hurt.

"I know," she said. "Please pass me the bread."


End file.
